Leave Nothing Unsaid
by Sanchari Das
Summary: Story of a girl who was still learning to cope up with the loss of a dear and near one
**Leave Nothing Unsaid…**

It was the first thought that came to her as she woke up. He was gone. And soon, this bedroom, the house in whose eastern corner it sat, and the tiny garden outside with its gnarled old red hibiscus and the half-grown mango tree they had planted together, all those would be gone as well. It was the strangest feeling ever. It was as if every memory that she had of him were fading, every moment they had spent together were slipping from her hands and every ride they had enjoyed will also be lost someday.

These thoughts had made waking up every morning a challenge for her. Her day started with guilt, grief, anger and depression. She didn't know how to deal with it. She wanted to cry and be alone. But being alone had the worst possible outcome, for facing depression alone made things worse. Most of the mornings she had no idea how she would make it through the day. She had no idea how to cope up with his absence. Every time a memory was brought up, she laughed, and then cried.

He was 87, so it's hard to say it came as a shock to her, but somehow, it did. Tiya knew it was coming, yet when she finally heard the news, she felt like someone had punched her hard in the stomach. It wasn't sudden and shouldn't have been unexpected. Yet it seemed unnatural, mysterious and incredibly uncomfortable.

She could still remember receiving the call from the hospital, her mother letting out a distraught cry, that he was no more. Her initial reaction was shock and confusion; she just couldn't understand what was happening.

He had battled so much that year to stay alive. Even after falling off the bed and hurting his head, which led to a serious brain bleed and surgery, he finally survived, surprising the doctors who didn't imagine he would make it. Although he pulled through, chances were there that he would not have all his brain functions. Yet, after three whole months, he did recover and remembered all of them. They had celebrated the day with heartwarming sweet memories.

Tiya had a great relationship with her grandpa—her friend and companion—but most of it were non-verbal. They knew how they felt, but there were too many things she felt she should have said out loud. May be she felt afraid, or was too weak to express her feelings or may be her head had some other stupid reasons that prevented her from pouring her heart out. She should have ignored them and spoke up, she thought. But it's too late now. She cringes every now and then when she thinks of all the valuable times she had wasted on stupid stuffs, instead of having more of him.

Although she felt really depressed for the things she should have done, she was grateful for all the good times they had spent together; and Tiya considered herself lucky enough to live with her grandpa throughout her childhood. She remembered how he used to attend all her dance programs, school plays and basket ball competitions and cheered her on, much to the envy of her friends, from his favorite lawn chair, that he took everywhere with him. It really helped her feel confident in herself.

Tiya remembered how he always took her seriously, taking time to listen to her and taking her concerns seriously, unlike her parents who hardly had any time for her. Her grandpa had always been open and honest to her whenever she asked a question or expressed her worries. He was always in a unique position of being able to provide her with a space in which she is fully accepted for who she was, without judging her even once. He had always validated her feelings and experiences and had always made her feel heard and understood. Her grandpa was more than her parents to her, who were always busy with their own world. But her grandpa was always there for her, supporting her and helping her out, no matter what.

Tiya remembered how she used to play hide-and-seek with him, as a kid, and play cards at the kitchen table. She would paint on his kurtas with crayons as her grandpa watched her lovingly. She would come to him whenever her mother scolded her and then cuddling with him would watch cartoons.

He used to take her shopping and replace her entire wardrobe. He would make weird noises with his mouth and she would try to copy them and then giggle together. He used to make her chicken soup and sandwiches on Sunday mornings and always had juice bottles in the fridge for they were her favorites. They would often read to each other before bedtimes.

Sometimes she was rude and inconsiderate and sometimes he gave her stern glances or even yelled at her when she doesn't listen. And then a long hug and sweet kisses would easily melt away the ice between them. Their relationship was about the fact that they both had extremely short memories, so they could be mad at each other one minute and be back to love the next.

Tiya had never imagined losing him. She had always thought, or rather believed, that her grandpa would always pull through and survive, just as he had done in the past. Yet, he left the world and the grief hit her hard. She knew he's inside her, he's around her and he's certainly a part of her, yet a feeling of emptiness surrounded her.

They were times when she just wished she could hug him one last time, hear him chuckle and see him smile again. At times, she wished she could be in heaven with him, and when she looked up at the sky, she knew he's looking down on her.

She had written a letter to him on his birthday this year, telling him how much he meant to her, how much of an impact he had on her life. She remembered how he had held the letter close to his heart and kept on repeating the words—"Wow! Very touching! Wow!"

Even though everything inside her feels like it's in fire, she somehow gathers the strength to wipe away her tears when she thinks of all those sweet moments she had spent with him. She somehow feels relieved that at least he died knowing what he meant to her.

Her grandpa loved to go fishing and always took her with him. Tiya didn't remember eating one whole banana ever as for them, bananas were always for splitting. They would always split the banana into two halves—he would take one and she, the other and then slicing them over the cereals would enjoy their breakfast together.

He would shake his head at the old people in the nursing home whenever he went there for his routine check-up. It never occurred to him that he may be one of them.

But as time passed, he didn't look like the strong independent person he truly was, anymore. When he had his heart attack, his face was cringed in pain and tears fell from his eyes. He was rushed to the ICU and put on the life support. All signs pointed towards an inevitable death, yet he was doing great, he was recovering and would be out of hospital very soon, Tiya knew, or rather she loved to believe. She hoped against hope that he would wake up from his deep long slumber, yawning and calling out to her. But he never did, and life suddenly didn't make any sense to her.

The day he passed away, a deep-rooted immortal hope died within her. The death seemed unjust, cruel, painful and worst of all, unnecessarily prolonged.

He died right in the middle of her ICSE—just two days before her maths exam—the subject she had learned to love from him. Her grandpa used to teach her maths and she remembered how eagerly she waited the entire week for the Sundays to arrive so that she could wake up early in the morning and head straight to her grandpa's with her maths book.

Tiya remembered the time when she had went to the hospital to visit him and had tried to converse with him, for the doctors said that he could still hear her, and she could see his body language change slightly, almost as if he was trying to respond, but couldn't. All he could do was to raise his right hand slightly and curl his fingers in a 'thumps-up' to wish her luck.

She knew he was going to die. She knew that everyone dies, that's life. Yet she was pissed he's gone. She was guilty for not opening up more, and was mad at herself for not writing a few more letters.

It was hard for Tiya to continue school after his death. It was hard for her to prepare for and give her maths exam without him. And it was hard for her to come back home to emptiness. She just couldn't believe that from now on there would be no one to say "I was waiting for u, darling" when she returns from school. The thought shattered her and broke her heart in million pieces each time she returned.

She was in pits, repenting, remembering and wanting him. Life had long lost its meaning and it was kind of impossible for her to move on. At times, she wanted to end her life, while at the other, she tried to burn all his memories she had with her. She had even tried to uproot the mango tree in their garden that swung its ugly head through the small window at her bedside, every time she tried to get some sleep. Yet, something within her pulled her back, stopped her from moving further and fixed her legs to the ground and her eyes on the half-grown mango tree, preventing her from wiping out the last remaining memories of her grandpa.

The long summer vacation was proving to be tougher and tougher for her, without him. With him, it always appeared to pass in the blink of an eye. She had isolated herself in her small room spending most of the time lying in her bed, wetting her pillow with all the memories that sneaked out of her eyes endlessly. It was at this moment when he stepped in her life. He was exactly what she needed—a shoulder to cry on and someone to talk to, who wouldn't judge, who would just listen and then console her with all his solacing power.

He was her Ratulda, the boy in class twelve, who used to teach her language, the subject she was the most afraid of. He used to visit her every Friday and hence had quite some knowledge about Tiya's feelings for her grandpa. Thus, when he heard of the bereavement, he knew exactly what he had to do.

One fine evening, he walked in by her open bed-room door as she lied helplessly on her bed staring blankly at the ceiling as two streams of water rolled down the side of her eyes.

"Wake up, Tiya, I have an important work for you," he said in his usual jolly voice.

"Huh, what?" Tiya asked, as she strived to drag herself back to the reality.

"Ratulda, you!" she exclaimed and jumped up and rubbed her eyes quickly on seeing an unexpected visitor.

"Yeah, it's me. And I really need you to do something," he replied, as he put down all the chart papers, colour pencils and other accessories he had brought with him, on the bed.

"What Ratulda?" Tiya asked.

"I want you to participate in the 'Scrap-book' competition this year, Tiya," he explained.

"Me? This year? But...," she begun.

"No buts please, Tiya. You have to do it. This year the topic is 'Memories' and I know none can do it better than you," he cut her short.

"Memories?" Tiya raised her eye.

"Yeah, memories. Tiya, I know you and your grandpa have made a lot of sweet memories together and…," he began, but stopped abruptly as Tiya burst into tears.

"I… I can't do this, Ratulda… I just can't… Every time I remember him, I feel completely empty inside. My heart burns each time I think of him. Memories would have the worst effect, Ratulda. It would remind me of the fact that I can no longer be able to see, hear or touch him," she replied, still crying, cupping her face in her hands.

"I know this is going to be really tough for you, Tiya. I too felt the same when my grandma died. But trust me cherishing the memories really helps…," he replied, his voice has long lost its cheerfulness.

Tiya looked up. "You had gone through this too, Ratulda?"

"Yeah, of-course, Tiya. Everyone had to go through this—everyone who are lucky enough to have their grand-parents. Unfortunately, many aren't as lucky as we are. Tiya, don't think that you can never feel him anymore, but try to be happy that you once could. Think of all the memorable moments you were lucky enough to spend together, very few fortunate gets this opportunity…"

"But all this competition… memories… how can I…"

"I'll help you with it. I will visit you every evening and together we would make him a happy memory and not a sad remembrance," he smiled. Tiya nodded and smiled back.

From then on, begun their journey of collecting all the photographs of the wonderful moments she spent in the warmth of her grandpa; the small gifts they had presented each other with, too had their pictures in the scrap-book. Tiya wrote whatever she remembered about him and whatever she had in her heart for him that she had always wanted him to know, but couldn't make herself clear. Tiya didn't forget to paste the pictures of them planting the red hibiscus and the mango tree. Although it led to some more tears, yet it really lightened her heart and made her feel at peace.

Tiya also found an old watch of him and began wearing that worn-out yet wonderful memory of her grandpa which reminded her of him every time she reached out to see the time.

Within two weeks they had completed all that were needed to be done. They had named it "Leave Nothing Unsaid". And, in the process, Tiya realized that the people they lose will never be gone forever, as she could well see it through the way Ratulda smiles—exactly like her grandpa. She had never noticed in all these years, what a great resemblance he had with her grandpa!

Finally, the announcement day arrived and, as Ratul has expected, Tiya won the first prize. She pictured her grandpa clapping for her and even saw him at her award ceremony and was sure that he was waving, smiling and crying at her glory.


End file.
